Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam, John
Word Count: 1,155
Warnings: stitching up John’s wounds, fluffy John at the end, nothing much here
Author’s Note: In this, the reader and Dean are 14 years old and Sam is 10 years old.
“Y/N, when is Dean going to be back?” Sam asked, eating the food that you made him. You were in charge of watching Sammy even though he was perfectly fine if he was on his own. Mary Winchester was the one to teach John how to cook. John was the one to teach Dean how to take and to take care of himself if he wasn’t around. Dean was the one to teach you since John was always busy and barely had any time to hang out with his kids.
Then you were the one to teach Sam. You only taught him how to cook the basics, just in case you, John, or Dean weren’t there to take care of him.
“Soon, Sam, I promise. If they’re not back by tonight, they definitely are back tomorrow.” You said with a smile, watching him eat. There was only enough food for Sam and you weren’t about to take that from him. You could survive one more day without food.
“Thanks for cooking for me. You didn’t have to do that, I could have done that myself.” Sam said, eating the spaghetti you made for him.
“I wanted to. Taking care of you is the thing I know best and I know I can’t really ever screw that up.” You said with a chuckle.
“Do you want the rest? I’m full and tired.” Sam said with a yawn. You looked at his food to see there was enough for three bites.
“Are you sure? It’s, like, three bites.” You said, looking at him.
“Have it. I’m done.” Sam said, getting up and throwing his napkin away. You smiled and took the plate, scarfing down the food.
“Thank you, Sam,” You smiled, going over to the sink and putting the dishes away. You would do them after he’s in bed. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” You wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led him to the room with the master bedroom. It was big enough that if John were to sleep in it, Sam wouldn’t bother him.
You followed Sam to the bedroom and since he was already in his pajamas, all you had to do was tuck him in.
“Good night Sam. I’m in the next room if you need me, okay?”
“Okay. Good night, Y/N.” Sam said with a smile, closing his eyes. You turned off the lamp and walked out of the room, closing the door quietly. An hour later, the front door to the motel room was slamming open and John stumbled inside with a worried Dean at his tail.
“Hey, I just put Sam down, would you please keep it down? Whoa, what happened?” You said. You didn’t fully register how badly John was bleeding until Dean showed you.
“That nasty song of a bitch got him before I could get it. I’m so sorry, dad.” Dean said, very worried he was the reason John got hurt.
“Don’t worry about it, Dean. It wasn’t your fault. Just go get cleaned up, okay? Y/N, I need you to do something for me.” John said. Dean nodded and left you and John to do as he was told.
“Anything, John. What is it?” You asked worriedly.
“Get the first aid kit. You’re going to have to stitch me up.” John grunted out, peeling his jacket and shirts off.
“What? No, John, I’ll kill you. I don’t know how to do that.” You said, biting your lip.
“Y/N, you won’t kill me. You need to trust me on this. Please, hurry before I lose any more blood.” John said, holding his shirt to his side. You rushed to his bag and got out the kit that he always brought along with him.
“Now what?” You asked.
“Now, get me my alcohol,” John said, hissing in pain the more he put pressure on the wound. You nodded and did as you were told, holding out the bottle of the whiskey he always brought.
“Now what?”
“I need you to clean out the wound. Don’t worry, it’s safe and sterilizes the wound.” John said, peeling his jacket away. You grabbed some towels and wiped the blood away from the wound so you could see it better.
“Okay, here I go,” You said, pouring the amber liquid on the wound. John yelled out in pain and you jumped back, stopping your movements. “John, I’m sorry!”
“No, don’t be. You’re doing such a good job. Listen to me, you’re doing amazing. Now, I need you to get the floss and the needle. Thread it through and make sure it’s tied.” You nodded and set the bottle down, grabbing the things you needed. You’ve sewed before so you knew what you were doing.
“Okay, now, I puncture your skin?” You asked, scared a little bit.
“Yes, please, before even more blood comes out.” He turned his body so that the whole wound shows itself to you. You bit your lip in worry and you reached out to do it but you backed out.
“John, I can’t do it. I don’t want to hurt you. Let me go get Dean because he knows what he’s doing.” You said.
“No, Y/N, you have to do it.” You felt a hand on your shoulder and you looked back at Dean who nodded at you.
“You need to learn, Y/N, for when Dean and I aren’t here and you have a wound.” John gritted out.
“Just pretend this is two pieces of fabric. Just sew like you normally would. Fix stitching.” Dean whispered to you. You nodded and gulped, touching his red skin. You got his blood on you but you didn’t care. You took a deep breath and imagined you were sewing two pieces of fabric together.
Once you pierced the skin, John grunted out in pain and you flinched but with Dean’s hand on your shoulder, you were able to continue. You managed to make it through the whole thing, sewing up the skin. You tied the end of it, making sure it wouldn’t come undone, and snipped it off with the scissors.
“Good, now you need to clean and wrap me up. Just use water this time.” John said, taking the bottle of whiskey, downing a few gulps.
“Right.” You said, grabbing a wet towel that Dean handed to you. You cleaned the blood off, making sure not to ruin the work you did. When you got it clean, you took the gauze and wrapped it around John’s torso, making sure it was pressed tightly against his wound to keep the blood from seeping out.
“You did good, kid.” John said, looking at you. You smiled up at him and put a bit of surgical tape on it to keep the gauze from going anywhere.
“Thanks, dad.” You whispered smiling widely when John smiled. He wasn’t your dad biologically but he was your dad. No matter what happened.
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